


anything

by acheaptrickandacheesyoneline, andcreation



Series: A Thing [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acheaptrickandacheesyoneline/pseuds/acheaptrickandacheesyoneline, https://archiveofourown.org/users/andcreation/pseuds/andcreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This collection of ficlets will tell the story about what happened <i>before</i> our three become, well, A THING. </p><p>Megan is the brain child behind this ficlet, and without her.. well, I'll be playing by myself in this sandbox and that's just not fun for anyone.</p><p>The title from this story comes from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jIArQyeHhJM">"Good for Nothing" from the <i>Mary Poppins</i> musical.</a></p>
    </blockquote>





	1. good for nothing

**Author's Note:**

> This collection of ficlets will tell the story about what happened _before_ our three become, well, A THING. 
> 
> Megan is the brain child behind this ficlet, and without her.. well, I'll be playing by myself in this sandbox and that's just not fun for anyone.
> 
> The title from this story comes from ["Good for Nothing" from the _Mary Poppins_ musical.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jIArQyeHhJM)

His last class of the day, Physiology, was the one that Tommy hated the most. It was also the one that was required no matter what path he decided to take towards med school. Earlier in the year, when he had been signing up for courses, it had seemed like a great idea to take a one night a week course to get it done and over with. 

In retrospect, spending three hours every Thursday night in a lecture room talking about organs was not a good an idea as it has seemed. After an hour it was near impossible to concentrate on notes and the limbic system, not to be confused with the lymphatic system. At hour two, he could feel his mind wandering, doodles around the margins the only thing keeping his attention in the room. Hour Three had him wishing that he, like some of the other students, had taken up smoking just so he would have a reason to get up and stretch his legs. Even after taking biochem and working with actual lung cancer organs.

As long as he made it through tonight, he would be two weeks closer to the final. Two weeks closer to never taking the course again. As long as he passed. It was a strong motivator, he found. It sure as hell worked better than anything his dear old _father_ had ever tossed at him.

At the thought of Malcolm, his phone lit up, the man’s name filling the screen. “Speak of the devil,” he quietly said. It was the fifth time since class had begun at 5pm that he had attempted to call Tommy. Like every time before, he reached for it, hit ignore, then shoved it back into his backpack. It lit up a second later with another voice mail notification. 

Jesus, the asshole was in rare form today if he wanted to talk to him this much. He wondered what had happened back home to make Malcolm suddenly decide to remember that he had a son again. Maybe it was the last email he sent to him, through his father’s secretary, because otherwise there was no change Malcolm would even read it. “Hi. Staying for summer. Changing major from business to med so want to get ahead.”

Yeah, that probably went over real well. 

Making a final change to his corner doodle of birds flying around a tree, Tommy capped his pen and began packing his bag. Up front, Professor Stump was talking about a final study group he was planning on opening up again, and to send him a message if you wanted in. Tommy pulled his pen back out a moment, wrote on a note on his palm to send the professor an email, before hefting his bag up over his shoulder. Joining the stream of students leaving the lecture hall, it felt good to just be one more faceless person in a crowd instead of Tommy Merlyn, rich party boy. 

It was the same feeling that he has gotten the first time he took an elective CPR and First Aid course. That he was able to do something because of him as a person, not because of who had given him a last name and paid for his entry into school number two. It was his hands, his actions, doing good, not his father’s name or money being tossed about like it could fix everything.

It was something he could be proud of. 

Something he was sure that his mom would have been proud of, given his memories of her from when he was seven, before she died, are on the fuzzy side now.

His phone lit up--again-- and this time Tommy stared at it a moment before answering. “Father. How did you know I was just thinking about you?”

“Thomas. Finally. I thought you might have lost your phone again.”

“I was in class, dad. They frown on using phones in the middle of lectures.”

“The real world understands when business must take precedence over pleasure.”

Tommy could feel his eyebrows raising. Oh, if only Malcolm were actually here to witness the reactions his phone calls usually caused. “The real world? I’m sorry, you mean your world? Because from where I’m standing here, the world feels pretty real to me.”

“A perfect opening for what I called to discuss with you, Thomas.” If he closed his eyes, Tommy could see his father at work in his office. Jacket off, but otherwise still impeccable in suit and tie and cuff links even though the day had ended hours ago. “There is an opening here for you at Global, son.” 

Tommy snorted. His dad never called him son unless he wanted something. 

Either Malcolm didn’t hear it, or he pretended not to. Tommy didn’t know what was worse. “You have had your college adventure, sowing your oats, or whatever it is you wanted out of it. It’s time to take your place here at the company. Join in on meetings with the board now, so that in a few years time you’ll be fully equipped to take over your rightful position here.”

“You’re upset I changed majors aren’t you?”

“I’m more concerned that you somehow think that pre-med is something you believe you are going to succeed in.” His father let out a long suffering sigh. “I rather think I have indulged your co-ed playacting long enough at this point, don’t you?”

Looking around, Tommy found a bench along one of the walkways through campus. This was not a conversation he wanted to have standing up. Hell, it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have at all, but it was one he knew was a long time in coming. “And if I say no?”

“No?” 

“Yeah. No.” A deep breath. He could do this. “No, I’m not coming back to Merlyn Global. I don’t want it. I have never wanted it. Yet for some reason you are incapable of seeing that no matter how many times I have told you.”

“Tommy,” Malcolm began. 

Tommy shook his head, standing up from the bench. “No, dad. You listen. When mom died, you were the one who went off to god knows where, leaving me alone in a big house with only a housekeeper and a cook for company. You never wanted a son. You wanted a carbon copy of yourself you could hand Merlyn Global over to. Well, newsflash, I’m not you. I will never be you, and I will never want to be the cold bastard that you are. So, no. I’m not coming back. I’m not taking whatever position you had created for me.”

“And just how are you planning on continuing your education without being able to pay for it?”

“Just like I’ve done with everything else. My good looks and smart wit.”

Before he could regret what he was saying, before he could let his dad into his head and screw with it more, Tommy ended the call. Immediately, his phone began to widely light up. Texts, calls. Emails. 

Funny that the best way to have his father admit he existed was to tell him to fuck off. 

He angrily shoved his phone into his pocket and slumped back onto the bench. Tomorrow, hell, probably right now, Malcolm was pulling his tuition. Thankfully, there were only a few weeks left in the semester, so it probably wouldn’t hurt as much as he was trying to make it.

But next year. Hell, summer session. 

Tommy leaned forward and let his head hang for a bit. There would have to be a way. People without trust funds did this all the time. Scholarships and jobs were things, he knew that. There was no way he would go back home to Star City, tail between his legs, begging Malcolm to please take him back. 

If anything, he was even more determined now to make it. To prove to the world, to Malcolm, to himself, that he was more than just a Merlyn with money. 

He gets up, needing a walk to sort through the storm brewing in his mind. He means to walk back to his apartment, which he now realizes he'll have to give up for something smaller, but his feet take him to The Labb.

He drops his bag in the chair across from him, pulled out his study materials and plopped down into his preferred chair. He set his textbooks and flashcards to the side of his laptop next to the charger, and put his head in his hands. 

“You look like you could use a hug.” -

“Excuse me?” He looked up from staring at his laptop in to find a blonde in an apron with her hand on her hip and a coffee in one hand staring down at him.

“Not that I’m offering random hugs to strangers but you look like you could use one.”

“I could probably use one, yeah. Just had it out with my douchebag of a dad. Who, in no uncertain terms, told me that I’m going to fail miserably at this whole medical school thing.” 

“Well, I don’t know you. But I’m assuming you’re smart… because medical school, so screw him.”

He smiles at her, and gestures at the seat across from him. “I’m Tommy. Tommy Merlyn.” 

“Felicity Smoak,” she replies as she smiles back, and plops into the chair. 

They had been talking for hours. Long enough that it was time for the shop to close up. 

Tommy packed up his untouched study material, slung his bag over his shoulder, and slowly stood.

“So.”

“So.”

“Guess that’s our sign.”

“Unless…”

He smiles. “I can work with unless.”

“I don’t want to be too forward, because nobody likes that quality in women, but I..” 

“Felicity,” the smile is evident in his voice. “Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”


	2. the cycle that i’ve cycled through before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This morning was no different, except these were his sheets wrapped around him and why the fuck was there dark hair in his face?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is made possible by my brain twin and co-author Megan's ability to keep me in line and focused. Special thanks to Melissa for assisting with some phrasing. 
> 
> This chapter features drug use, heavy drinking, and lots of poor choices. 
> 
> Chapter title from "The Actuary Song" from _I Love You Because_.

Everybody who was anybody knew that Ollie Queen had a type. The girls that wound up in his bed (or whose beds he ended up in, more often than not) were always leggy brunettes with more beauty than brains. 

This morning was no different, except these were his sheets wrapped around him and why the fuck was there dark hair in his face? As if she sensed he was awake, she rolled over and smiled a sleepy smile at him. “Good morning.” 

“Hey,” he replied. Maybe she’d give him a hint about her name or what happened last night. The last thing he remembered was grabbing a bottle of champagne from the bar downstairs during his party. Now here he was, waking up this morning. What the hell had happened between those memories?

“This isn’t the first time that we’ve done this, Ollie, and let’s face it - it’s not going to be the last.” 

“Helena.” Of course it was _Helena_. “Get the fuck out of my bed.” 

“Ollie..” 

“Get. Out. _Now_.” 

-

Helena Bertinelli was the daughter of a business associate of his father. They had both grown up in the limelight, and both had a wild side. They also had developed a pattern over the years of hating, loving, then hating one another again. They were all extremes when they were together - they either hated each other or couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. 

There were a few constants in Ollie’s life: drugs, alcohol, irresponsibility and Helena. He promised himself every time he woke up with her, that it would be the last time - and often, it would be... at least for a time.

One of the more recent times this had happened, they had gotten into a fight because Helena wanted him to admit that he _only_ wanted her, in the “happily ever after” sort of way. Because she only wanted him, in the “put it on the Queen account” sort of way. He stormed out, and that was that. Two weeks later, he was horny, she was there, and they were back in her bed again. So it went, until someone texted him a photo taken outside of Poison.

The fact that they had woken up in his bed this morning told him that this was on purpose. Helena would have to walk out the front door of the mansion, in last night’s party dress and would absolutely get invited to stay for breakfast by his mother, who was certainly the reason that she had ended up at the party in the first place.

Oliver felt overwhelmed all of a sudden. He was ready to make a clean break from his past, to begin looking toward his future in the Marine Corps. 

-

The first time he saw her, he was ten years old. His mother had insisted that he put on a suit and come to dinner with an important business contact. That important business contact turned out to be Helena’s father. 

He hated wearing suits and wasn’t too sure about girls yet, but he knew that he thought she was pretty. So he did what any ten year old did when he thought he might like a girl - he pushed her down and ran away. 

The next time he saw her, he was twelve years old and had made up his mind about girls. He kissed her underneath the stairs at Queen Consolidated while their parents were signing a contract sealing their new business partnership.

-

They were each other’s firsts in every way, except the ones that mattered. Every “I love you” uttered by Helena was met with pushback from Ollie, in the form of cheating or drugs or loud comments to the paparazzi that shadowed them everywhere.

On one particular occasion, after one of their many public fights, he told a photographer that she was a great fuck but that he would never, ever make it anything more than that. Helena threw an expensive drink in his face when he walked into the VIP section of the club that night. It ended with a quick, dirty tussle against the wall in the hall by the manager’s office. 

Years came and went, and yet, they couldn’t break the cycle. 

It took the paparazzi photo of Helena passing a baggie to Thea for Oliver to snap out of it. 

He arrived at Poison, and immediately started downing tequila. It wasn’t long before he was far past drunk, and he had his mind set on confronting Helena. 

He found her on the dance floor, hands above her head, swaying to the music. Her eyes were glassy, and he knew that it wasn’t just vodka tonics that she was high on that night. He pushed his body behind hers on the floor, and his face close to her ear.

“What the fuck were you thinking, giving my sister drugs?”

“She wanted to have a good time, Ollie. You’re one to talk.”

“It’s my _little sister_. There’s a limit.” 

She had laughed at that. “People like us don’t have limits, Ollie.” 

He remembered gripping her sides roughly, his face so close to her ear that his five o’clock shadow scraped against the shell of her ear. “You and I are _nothing_ alike, Helena.”

One thing led to another which led to them falling into the backseat of his car, which led to them falling into his bed. As a rule, he never brought girls back to the mansion. It led to unwanted complications. He had never brought Helena there. Until that night. 

When they woke up the next morning, Helena’s hands were playing with the edge of the sheet that was barely covering them. 

“Get out.” 

“Ollie.”

“Helena, get out.” 

“Ollie…”

“This was a mistake. _Everything_ about you is a mistake. Get. Out. Now.”

After she stormed out, Oliver sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. Something had to change, and something had to change right now. 

He took a shower to clean and sober up, before he left the mansion to go for a drive. 

He took the long way to QC, for reasons that he didn’t quite understand, but it put him past all of the shopping centers in The Glades that had dry cleaners and takeout restaurants and recruiting stations. 

He pulled into the parking lot of one, and brought his car to a stop in front of the Marine Corps recruiting office. Turning off the engine, he put his hands on the wheel, and took a deep breath. He always had a reckless way that led to favoring extremes, but this was an extreme of an entirely different variety. He thought of Thea when she was younger, singing about a horse of a different color after she’d seen The Wizard of Oz for the first time. A horse of a different color, indeed - one who was sober, responsible, and away from the things that pulled him back into the lifestyle he so desperately needed out of - if not for him, than for Thea. She deserved better than a brother who got drunk, made bad decisions, and threw those bad decisions out of the house in the light of morning. 

He would be better for her. And, maybe, just maybe, somewhere along the way he’d learn to want to be better for himself too.

-  
When Helena refused to move from his bed, refused to do anything else but lay there wearing nothing but a smile, Oliver pounded to his closet and pulled on the first clean clothes he found. After a moment of rummaging around for it, he started shoving clothes into his duffle bag, thankful he didn’t need to pack too much.

He ignored Helena’s attempts to talk to him and went into the bathroom, gathering his toiletries, dumping them into the bag. 

“Get. Out. And leave Thea the _fuck_ alone,” he growled out at her. He shoved his feet into his shoes, left the door to his room wide open behind him as a final screw you to Helena. She would have to get up to close it, naked in the process, or be found that way in his bed.

Not that nudity had stopped either of them before. Maybe his mother would finally see her for who she was though. Hell, maybe after this he would finally get his head on straight and break out of whatever this was they were in. 

He had Raisa call him a cab to the airport. A clean break was what he needed here. No town cars or private jets. His hug to Raisa to pass onto Thea was the only thing he was upset about leaving behind as the cab pulled away. 

Oliver settled into the backseat, duffle in the trunk. He had a flight to Fort Benning to catch.


End file.
